It Only Hurts When I Breathe
by Enlee
Summary: House and Cuddy try to move on after "Don't You Forget About Me". The last chapter is up. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

He held her because that's what she wanted, and she couldn't go to sleep unless he did. He seriously doubted that but didn't say anything. No reason to get Cuddy more wound up than she already had been in the weeks following the black plague that had been named Nicole Wallace. Cuddy's nose had healed well and her hand was getting there. But her other wounds were more than skin deep. His new job was checking each and every lock-including the new deadbolts on every door leading to the outside-every night ever since Nicole Wallace had bulldozed her way into their lives and died on his living room floor.

House tried not think about Nicole anymore and usually succeeded. Cuddy couldn't stop, not at first. For nearly a month he had spent more than a few nights sitting up with Cuddy because she had had another nightmare about Nicole breaking into her home to finish what she had started back at the apartment. The nightmares were tapering off; no new ones in the last week or so. The homicidal bitch was now a briquette in hell. Cuddy once mentioned buying a red dress and dancing on Nicole's grave. She later denied she had ever said such a thing. House knew damn good and well what he had heard and kept checking her closet for any new dresses, just in case.

Cuddy was finally asleep, warm puffs of her breath against his neck. He kept right on holding her since she was so nice to hold on to. Asleep in his arms because she felt safe there. Safe in arms of a cripple; House thought that was hilarious. He decided it was best to keep his trap shut about that as well. It was probably the first and only time in his life a woman thought of him as her hero, her knight in shining armor. Who was he to say otherwise?

Soft, well-worn fabric under his fingertips. The Jack Daniel's shirt. A hole in the fabric. The shirt had been washed and worn so often it was starting to fall apart, the black fabric fading to dark grey. House made mental note to buy another one or maybe two in the near future.

He stretched his good leg, his foot poking out from under the fluffy yellow comforter. Cuddy's bedding on her too-small bed. In her home. Not _their_ home. Not yet.

The move had been postponed. No word on when she might want to give it another go and make some plans. Cuddy had all but thrown herself back into her work to distract herself and the subject of his moving in with her had barely been brought up. Strange, considering it was her idea to begin with. Whenever he tried to ask her about it, she would change the subject and babble on about fundraising, patients, meetings. Things that were familiar. Things she had to deal with because she was in charge. Maybe the idea was just too much for her at the moment. Maybe she just didn't want him to move in anymore. She couldn't or wouldn't say.

That was going to change tomorrow morning. He was going to get a yes or no from her at breakfast table.

* * *

"I want an answer," House said as he pushed his now-empty plate of eggs and toast out of the way.

Cuddy stared into her bowl of cereal as if she wished it would swallow her up. "I don't have one right now," she muttered.

"Lisa, it was your idea to have me move in with you. Remember that?"

"Yes." Her gaze moved from the bowl to the window. Anywhere but his eyes.

"You were over at my place, making plans and taking notes."

"I remember that, too."

"Have those plans changed?"

"I don't--"

"It's a _yes_ or a _no_. Which is it?"

"I--"

"_Yes_ or _no_. You either want me to move in or you don't. Which is it?"

Cuddy stood up to leave. House grabbed her wrist and held on like a bear trap.

"Lisa," he began. "I was there, too. She's dead and buried. All those new locks might make you feel better but it still doesn't change the fact that you bought them to protect yourself from someone who can't hurt you anymore."

"She hurt you too, Greg. And she's not the only who has," Cuddy said stonily. "He walked right out of the hospital and is still out there with a gun."

"That was years ago. If he really wanted to finish the job, he would have finished it already," House pointed out. "You're a strong woman, Lisa. I know you want to move on and I know you can do it."

"I want to move on," she admitted. "I don't want to live like this anymore."

"I know. We can't change what happened, but we can put it behind us. We. You and me, Lisa. How does that sound?"

"It sounds nice," Cuddy said, finally meeting his eyes.

"Have your plans changed?"

"No, they never have."

"Yes or no. Say it."

"Yes," she said without hesitation.

He let go of her wrist. "Good. My plans had never changed, either. We'll talk things over at my place tonight. I really hate your bed."


	2. Chapter 2

House narrowed his eyes as he watched Cuddy set two small purple jar candles on his coffee table. "What the hell are those?"

She struck a match and held it to the wick as she replied, "Scented candles. You wanted a woman's touch in here, remember?"

"Candles. That's such a _girly_ thing."

"You love my girly things," she said, looking up and smiling. The tiny flames reflected in her pupils, making them glow like cat's eyes. "And I'm not talking about the candles."

"Yes, I like them, among other things. What are those supposed to be, little jars of blackberry jam with a wick in them?"

"I just told you what they are. It's a lavender scent. Give it a chance"

"It better not stink up the place, that's all I have to say."

"It won't," she said matter-of-factly, taking a seat beside him. "Your apartment always smells of stale booze, leftover Chinese, or peanut butter. This will be a nice change."

House gave a short laugh and said, "We've been together for nearly two years and you're just now saying something? And you complain about me not expressing my feelings and emotions? Your house always smells like potpourri and garlic bread. There, we're even."

"If it makes you feel better," she said, draping his arm around her shoulder like a shawl. "I wasn't complaining, and you said you wouldn't mind a few candles."

"A few, that's all."

"You're in luck as this is all I have."

The sweet lavender scent began to drift over. It was nice, not too perfume-like or overpowering. He could live with it, and he had to admit that it was much better than stale bourbon.

House hugged her closer. "All right, boss. Let's get down the nitty-gritty. You said your plans haven't changed. Neither have mine. So when exactly are we going to get those plans back on track?"

"As soon as possible."

"When will that be?"

"As soon as possible. You haven't gone through your books yet, have you?"

"I never got around to it."

"I didn't think so," Cuddy said with a knowing smirk. "I should have asked Wilson to come down here tonight, but I didn't even think about it. You, me and Wilson need to get together again and map out a strategy, for lack of a better word."

"Strategy? This is moving my crap from Point A to Point B, Lisa. You're not a military commander planning D-Day, okay. Stop before you start. There's no need to work yourself into a tizzy."

"I know…I know…,"

"My books aren't going anywhere. Let's get Wilson over here sometime in the next few days and you and strategize your little heart out."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Do you still have your notes?'

"Of course."

"I knew it." House looked down at her and grinned. "Well, you're here now, boss. Want to go ahead and look through my books?"

"No."

"Me neither. We'll leave that to Wilson."

* * *

She slept with the lights on when House wasn't around. House didn't know it and she didn't want him to know it. She had done that ever since Nicole Wallace took her last breath in the his living room, barely ten feet from where Lisa Cuddy was sitting. Broken fragments of the lamp light reflected in the ripples of her coffee as she took another sip. The kitchen was lit up even though she hadn't been in there for at least half an hour. Those lights would normally have been turned off the minute she stepped into the living room. But not today. She reveled in the light. It was safe in the light. Too many secrets hid in the dark, waiting to jump out the second she turned her back.

_You're a strong woman, Lisa._

Not strong enough.

House being House, he couldn't sleep with the lights on and had gone right back to his erratic sleep patterns, getting five whole hours on a good night. So she did what she had to do--she stroked his ego. _Please come to bed._ _I feel safer when you're with me. _Played the 'you're a big strong man and I need you to protect me' game to the hilt without a shred of shame. So far he was eating it up. He would come to bed hours earlier when he would normally be catching up on his monster truck shows. And he was almost always there when she woke up. It was doing both of them some good.

He would catch on sooner or later. He always did.

She got up and padded to the bedroom door. The first signs of morning were showing, coating the room with a dusky, soft light. The morning light framed the sleeping Gregory House beautifully. He was gorgeous, exquisite, a work of art laying against his hunter green sheets.

He would be up soon. And starving, as usual.

There were some cinnamon rolls in his fridge. If she got them into the oven now, they would piping hot and ready to eat by the time he stumbled into the kitchen, demanding coffee and breakfast.

She turned and headed to the kitchen, hoping the morning treat that would be waiting on the table would distract him, that he wouldn't notice that she had been trying to get away from the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Wilson had two patients he wanted to keep a close eye on, not to mention a backlog of paperwork that Cuddy wanted him to catch up on. She told him his patients came first, hurry up and finish his damn paperwork already, and let her know when he had some free time.

The rest of the day was a blur of patients, files, complaints about House, meetings, more files and more complaints about House. His snarkiness was set on full throttle, and he made damn sure everyone knew it. Twice she had heard him barking orders at his team of fellowship hopefuls, then watching said team members stomp down the corridor, muttering such charming phrases as "Test _this_, asshole", under their breath.

"House, this hospital isn't some foreign land to be conquered. Stop being such a tyrant," she ordered when she was finally able to get him cornered in his office.

"Too late," he replied while typing away furiously on his laptop. "I came, I saw, I conquered."

"Kutner is walking up and down the corridors calling you an asshole."

"And I'm supposed to care because…?" He gave a short laugh and added, "Let me know when he _doesn't_ call me an asshole. Then I'll be furious."

"Do you really--"

"Cuddy," he broke in, sounding aggravated. "I have a Houdini wannabe down the hall who is actually sick."

"Is he really? And all this time you said he just screwed up that underwater trick."

"Not anymore. He had a bloody Niagra Falls coming out his nose, and you don't get that from doing card tricks in a hospital bed. Now if you don't mind I'd like to do some research while waiting for those assholes who want to work for me run some more tests. Don't wait up for me."

Her stomach dropped at the thought of being all alone in his apartment. She managed to keep her game face and said, "That's fine. Take care of your patient, please."

She was turning to leave when she heard, "Cuddy."

"What?"

"Mr. Rogers was a nice guy and a great neighbor, but he wouldn't have lasted two seconds doing my job. Whether Kutner stays or goes, he's going to have to learn that lesson the hard way."

Cuddy didn't agree with him, but chose not argue with him as she left his office. It could wait until later, or maybe never. The patient came first.

* * *

Dammit, why didn't she stay at the hospital?

It was almost ten o'clock. The television was on just to provide some background noise. She paced around the living room the way she had seen House do many times when his insomnia was at its worst or his leg hurt; back and forth, then endless laps around the sofa and coffee table. Every light in the living room and kitchen was blazing bright enough to hurt her eyes. The hallway and back rooms were kept dark, not that she liked it but House drove right by the windows when pulling up and he would question why the hell all the damn lights were on when he walked in the door. They would stay dark…for the moment.

This wasn't good. There was no reason for a grown woman, let alone the Dean of Medicine of a prestigious hospital, to be scared of the dark. It was just the dark, the same dark that had always been there and always will be there.

It would pass. She was sure of it. Things would be back to normal soon. No need for House to worry about it and no need for him to know.

A familiar roar as the motorcycle came tearing up the street then slowed down in front of the apartment.

A wave of relief swept through her, then she realized that it would appear that she was anxious and waiting if she were standing in the middle of the room when he opened the door. She grabbed a random magazine off the table and flopped on the sofa as his key rattled in the lock.

"Did I miss my curfew, boss?" House drolled as he limped to the closet to hang up his jacket.

"No, but I can ground you and send you to bed without dessert if you want." She looked up from the magazine and smiled as if everything was right with the world.

"_Hmph_. No whipped cream and strawberries? I'm crushed."

"You don't have any whipped cream and strawberries. They're at my house, and the strawberries are in the freezer."

"Mmmmm…time to take them out."

"Not yet. How's your patient?"

"Cured!"

"You're joking."

"I am…sort of. He has lupus. A real live case of lupus. Who knew?" House paused and looked around, squinting his eyes. "You sure you got enough lights on in here?"

"I needed enough light to read," she said quickly.

"And enough light for the people across the street to read by, too? The kitchen lights don't need to be on for you to read. Damn, and you bitch and moan at _me_ for wasting electricity." House peered over the sofa. "You're reading my motorcycle magazine? I'm impressed!"

Of course it had to be the stupid motorcycle magazine he read cover to cover and not one of the medical journals he barely bothered to glance at. "I'm not reading it, just looking at the pictures."

"Do they get you all hot and bothered, boss?"

"They all look like motorcycles to me. Big toys for big boys." It was time to change the subject. "You hungry?" she asked, turning off the TV and standing up.

"Hell yes! Is there any spaghetti left?"

"Yes, and I saved you some garlic bread."

"Why, thank you, honey."

They both froze in mid-step. Cuddy felt her stomach drop for the second time that day, for an entirely different reason. A huge smile nearly broke her face as she watched the redness in his cheeks spread all the way across his face and down to his chest. He called her _honey_. Gregory House had called her _honey_. If she hadn't heard it with her own ears…

She laughed so hard she was doubled over. After nearly five minutes she regained the ability to speak coherently. House remained frozen in place, the blush never leaving his face.

"I won't tell a soul." Cuddy said. "I know how much your reputation as a merciless asshole means to you."


	4. Chapter 4

Cuddy piled the reheated spaghetti and garlic bread on a plate, and brought him a tall glass of milk to go with it.

"Here you go, honey," she deadpanned.

"Aw, man. I've created a monster," House groaned, then plowed into his dinner like a man who probably hadn't eaten anything substantial since lunch ten hours earlier.

She sat down and watched him inhale his food. She wasn't hungry, but couldn't help herself and broke off a piece of garlic bread. Thankfully House was too busy and too hungry to do nothing more than cast a half-hearted sideways glare in her general direction, then refocus on the task at hand.

She waited for him to slow down and take a breath before asking, "Does Wilson still want some of your books?"

"As far as I know," House replied, then took a healthy gulp of milk. "He hasn't said anything to me about not wanting them anymore."

"We should go ahead and pack some for him."

"What for?"

"It won't kill us to get some things done ahead of time. It'll be easier for all of us."

"Why don't we wait until he can get here and let him pick them out. He probably wants to read some of them, so we should let him pick out the ones he wants."

"Are you saying that to get out of packing?" Cuddy raised an eyebrow as she nibbled at the bread. "Not that you would ever try something as devious as _that_..."

"Packed or not, those damn books aren't going anywhere right now." House made an overdramatic show of waving his hand in the direction of his bookcases. "If you want to pack, go right ahead. Just be quiet because I want to watch my soaps for a while before I go to bed. And then you can stand there and watch Wilson unpack half of them anyway since he won't want them."

"You always have an answer and a compelling argument to get out of work."

"But you still love me anyway." House grinned. "Now that Magic Man is on the mend, however shall I fill time besides hiding from clinic duty?"

"Catch up on your patient files?"

"I'll get right on that…_not_!"

"Help out in the ER?"

"I'd rather do clinic duty."

"You still owe me two hours this week, and they will be done by Thursday or you're emptying bedpans."

"That's two hours too many," he said as he scraped the demolished pile of spaghetti back together. "I have a better idea: Tomorrow I'll tell the magician that he has an inoperable brain tumor. Maybe that'll get him to tell me how he did the card trick."

* * *

She listened, hugging his pillow to her tightening chest, trying to keep her breaths slow and even as House finished brushing his teeth. In a few minutes he would come in and turn out the light. The entire apartment would be dark, only the streetlights and the dim alarm clock to provide any kind of illumination. Too dark, too many shadows where someone can hide and wait…

But it would be okay. House would be with her and everything would be fine. Maybe.

_Dammit, Lisa. Get a grip already._

The water turned off, then the tap of the can brought him back into the bedroom. Her nervousness didn't appear to be showing or he would have caught on to it like a bloodhound sniffing out a crime scene. He smiled when he saw her curled up on his side the bed.

"Any room left for me, boss?"

"There might be," she said, forcing herself to smile back and scoot over, to keep up the charade. "I was keeping it warm for you."

"Thank you, honey."

"You're welcome, darling."

A warm, low chuckle floated over the bed as House climbed into it. "Lisa, if you ever slip up and call me that at the hospital, there will be hell to pay."

"For you, yes. What happens if _you_ slip up, Greg?" She was trying to keep him talking for a while so he wouldn't turn out the light. "What happens then, _honey_?"

"I'm not going to."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I will be hiding from you and clinic duty and bedpan duty tomorrow. By the time you catch up with me, you'll be calling me all kinds of four-letter words and colorful names. I don't think 'honey' or 'darling' or 'pooky' will be among them."

"You really think you can hide from me?"

"I've done it many times before, boss."

"And you'll do it again."

"Damn right. I know every nook and cranny of that hospital."

"So do I, and I will find you sooner or later."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" With that he reached over and switched off the lamp. "Nighty night, pooky."

"'Night," she managed to say with an almost normal voice. Blindly, Cuddy reached out, trying to find an anchor against the crashing darkness that threatened to carry her away, then felt the dread drain away when she felt his arm around her. She rested her head on his chest, listened to the distant thunder of his heartbeat, relished the weight of his arm on her. Safe and warm in his bed. She was safe with him, yet the morning couldn't arrive soon enough.


	5. Chapter 5

She woke up in the dark alone. The dark bedroom, the darkness that threatened to swallow her up. In the dark the room seemed huge, endless, and she would never find her way out. Choking back a panicked cry Cuddy reached out for House. The other side of the bed was cold, the covers pulled back. She was alone. All alone in the dark bedroom where anything could waiting for the right moment to grab her and…

…wait…a sliver of light under the door, and the low, constant babbling of the television. House was up and out in the living room. He had closed the door out of courtesy. He didn't want the light or the noise from the television to wake her up. Damn him.

_Why isn't he in here with me? Why? I can't be here by myself! I'm not safe, I'm not safe…_

_Dammit, stop thinking like that, you idiot!_

_I can't…_

Swallowing thickly, her heart pounding in her ears, Cuddy crawled across the bed towards the light under the door. Just get out of dark and out into the wonderful light of the living room and everything will be all right. Out of the suffocating, choking dark. Get out of there. She nearly fell off the bed, then all but ran to the sliver of light and clawed for the doorknob.

Then threw the door open so hard it bounced off the wall with all the subtlety of a cannon going off in the apartment.

"What the hell was that?" House called out.

The second she heard his voice she knew it was all over. Standing there shaking, heart going a mile a minute, dripping sweat like it was two hundred degrees in the hallway, panting for breath like she had been running for her life; and that's exactly what it felt like. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. There was no hiding it anymore. Any second House was going to come around the corner and see her looking like a pathetic, gibbering mess. Dr. Lisa Cuddy, afraid of the dark and scared of big scary monsters hiding under the bed. The Dean of Medicine, now reduced to a pitiful excuse for a human being. As she shuffled and felt her way along the hall like a blind person, he stepped into her view.

"Lisa?"

His eyes were wide with concern. The light caught them, caught their electricity, their ability to see through the charades everyone put up. She cracked the second his gaze fell on her because he saw first-hand what she had been reduced to. Her crying sounded weak and helpless, and that just made her cry harder. Her humiliation was complete.

"Lisa," she heard House say, as she could no longer bring herself to look at him to spare herself from seeing the pity on his face. She didn't want his pity. She just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. "Good God, Lisa, what's wrong?"

The soft touch of his fingers as he began to brush her away from tear-stained face, but she flinched away as if he had slapped her. House grabbed her shoulder and it was only then she realized how bad she was shaking.

"Lisa, what is it? Answer me."

She didn't say a word, just stared at the floor and watched her tears fall around her feet.

"Lisa, answer me."

She didn't want to answer.

"_Lisa_!"

His voice was loud. Not angry, just baffled. Cuddy finally met his eyes; no anger in them, no pity, just worry and puzzlement. He reached out and stroked her hair away again. She didn't have the strength to do a half-assed job of ignoring him anymore. All she could do was stand there, defeated by her silly school-girl phobia.

"Lisa, what's wrong. Please tell me," House said, continuing to caress her cheek. It was soothing, so soothing, and she found herself responding to it.

In a weak, cracking voice she answered, "I'm afraid."

"Afraid?" His brow furrowed. That wasn't what he had been expecting to hear. "Afraid of what?"

"The dark," Cuddy replied, the salty taste of her tears spreading across her tongue. "I'm afraid of the dark. I just…I just…" She couldn't finish and covered her face with her hands.

"So that's what has been going on," House remarked quietly, almost to himself. "C'mon, Lisa, let's go sit down and see what we can do about this."

She felt herself being led to the sofa, then gently pushed down onto the cushions. Something soft was put in her hand; a tissue. The floorboards creaked as he went to the kitchen, coming back with a bottle of bourbon then two glasses. A glass was suddenly shoved under her nose, the liquid filling her mouth and she had to swallow to keep from drowning. The alcohol burned her throat and the subsequent coughing fit brought her back to reality, back into the living room and the awareness that House has always been able to see right through her. She drained the rest of her glass. House poured her some more.

"I feel so stupid," Cuddy muttered, staring into her drink and wishing she could crawl into it.

"You're not stupid, Lisa." House rubbed her back.

"But you knew the whole time." The crumpled tissue fell from her hand. She ignored it. So did House.

"No, I didn't. Not really," he said. "I knew something was up. I noticed you had to have the lights on and had to have me with you when you went to sleep. I thought it was you were worried about having more nightmares. Obviously I was wrong."

"But you knew something was wrong the whole time." She sipped the bourbon. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you didn't want me to know."

"You got that right," she said with a snort. "Too late for that now, huh?"

"You wanted to take care of this yourself."

"I thought I could."

"What happened in there?"

"I panicked," she answered shakily. "I woke up in the dark and you weren't there and it was just…too much. I was so scared. It was suffocating, absolutely suffocating. Then I saw the light under the door and had to get to it."

"Judging from the crash when you opened the door, you did just that."

"Don't," she said sharply. "Don't even start."

"What?" House frowned.

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not," he said quietly, taking the glass out of her hand, then pulling her into an embrace. "I'm not making fun of you. I'm not ashamed of you. I never could be." With that she started cry against his chest. "The look on your face in the hallway told me everything I needed to know. You're going to be all right, Lisa. I'm going to make damn sure of that."


	6. Chapter 6

He had noticed something was a little bit off with Cuddy, but hadn't realized how bad it had become until he rounded the corner and saw wreck she had turned in to, crying and shaking; his stomach dropped to his feet_. _As he led her to the sofa and waited for her nerves to calm a bit, he quietly cursed himself for not picking up on her distress sooner. He was supposed to be there for her, dammit, in the here and now. She needed him and he had been catching up on his goddamn soaps. One step behind. Coming in after the fact wasn't exactly the kind of help she needed.

He watched her drain another glass of booze, then sat back and listened as she spilled her guts about what had been going on with her over the last few weeks. He obviously had some catching up to do.

She managed to give him the long and short of it before curling up and burying her face in his chest. Still trembling, though he could feel she was finally starting to relax.

That bitch Nicole Wallace. Still stalking them from the grave.

Cuddy turned her head and took a huge breath of air. Her arms curled around his neck and she clung to him as he were life preserver. House looked down and could see her face was flushed pink and tear-stained.

House asked, "You okay there, boss?"

"Mmm-hmmm…," Cuddy groaned

"Is that a _yes_?"

"I don't know," she answered with a weak, hoarse voice. "Maybe. Probably not. At least not yet. I'll be okay...eventually."

"Lisa, look at me."

She tilted her chin up until their eyes locked. He noted with disdain that her usually crystal clear eyes were cloudy and bloodshot. Considering the breakdown she nearly had, House figured her eyes, among other things, could look a hell of a lot worse.

"You're not going to let her scare you forever, are you?"

"No," Cuddy said with a scowl. "No, I'm not."

"Now that's the Lisa Cuddy I know and love," House said. "You kicked her legs out from under her, remember?" He waited for her to nod before continuing. "You did good, Lisa. You did real good. If you hadn't done that…well, you know. The scales would not have tipped in our favor."

"She was going to kill you, Greg."

"Yes, she was."

"Then she would have killed me."

"Probably."

"I stopped her."

"That you did."

"I said I wasn't going to lose any sleep over it," Cuddy said with a flat chuckle. "I said that I didn't care she was dead. But here I am, afraid of the dark, afraid to go to sleep alone, and waiting for Nicole Wallace to jump out of the shadows and get me. I feel like a little kid who watched a scary movie and now has to hide under the covers. God, it's so damn pathetic."

"You're not going to let her win."

"No," Cuddy said thickly.

"I know you're not. I know you're better than that, Lisa."

"Damn right I am." Sighing, she dropped her head into her hands. "I am better than that, but right now I'm just half-drunk and exhausted. I've got a budget meeting tomorrow morning and God help me if I miss it."

"Can't have that. Ready to give sleep another try, boss?"

"Only if you're there with me."

"Ready, willing and able," he said with a chuckle, and was all but elated when she gave a small laugh in return. "Let's go."

"Yes, let's go." Cuddy stood up. "Give me a minute to clean myself up first."

"One minute and not a second more," House drolled as he followed her to the bathroom.

He stood outside the door as she washed her face and gave her teeth a quick brush. He couldn't help but notice when she finally paused to look at herself in the mirror and frowned at the dull-eyed woman looking back. After a few blinks didn't make the reflection any more brighter, she turned away.

"Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"I want a light on." She sounded guilty when she spoke, almost like she was requesting him to commit a crime.

"Which light?" House asked.

"Any light. I need a light on. Please."

"What the boss wants the boss gets. How does the hall light sound?"

"Perfect." Cuddy sounded immensely relieved.

"The hall light it is." He slid his arm around her waist as they walked to the bedroom. "You know, I kinda liked it when you buttered me up all those times you wanted me to come to bed early. I certainly wouldn't mind if you kept on doing that after I move in."


	7. Chapter 7

"Don't leave me again tonight," Cuddy muttered as she made herself comfortable against House.

"I won't," he said, pulling the blankets up and over the both of them.

"I mean it."

"So do I."

"Maybe I should see a shrink."

"You already know why you're afraid of the dark, Lisa," House said in a dismissive tone. "Talking to a quack for an hour at a time isn't going to bring any startling insights to that."

Cuddy looked over at the light spilling in from the hallway. Having that light on made all the difference in the world. "You might be right, but I'm keeping that option open."

"If that's what you want, boss."

"It is."

"In the meantime you're going to do some research about nyctophobia on the internet, aren't you?"

Cuddy chuckled and replied, "You're damn right."

"I trust the 'net more than I trust all those quacks who mess with your head for a living. Shrinks are overrated."

"You say that about everything."

"And I'm usually right. Now go back to sleep."

* * *

"This was your idea," he called from the dark bedroom.

House was lounging against a pile of pillows on the bed. He could see her backlit at the end of the hallway, wringing her hands, biting her lip, working up the nerve to join him in the bedroom.

"It wasn't a very good one." Cuddy said. Every light behind her was on. Every light in front of her was off. The hallway looked a hundred miles long. "This is a mistake. Let's just forget about it."

"Too late. Now get in here, boss."

"I…can't."

"Yes, you can."

"I _can't_."

"You can. Get in here."

"No."

"Lisa, why are you afraid of the dark?"

"I already told you," she said, folding her arms.

"Tell me again." House shifted on the bed. "Humor me for a while."

"I'm afraid Nicole Wallace is hiding in there. She's hiding in a dark corner, waiting for us. She's come back to kill us both and won't stop until she does. As long as the light is on I can see what is going on and have a chance."

House said, "Is Nicole Wallace in here, boss?"

"No," Cuddy answered with a sigh.

"Why is that?"

"Because she's dead."

"Exactly. She's not coming back, is she?"

"No."

"That's right," House said, hoping he sounded encouraging. "Now what's stopping you from walking down that hallway into this here bedroom?"

"Nothing."

"That's right. It's getting lonely in here. I could sure use some company on this big bed of mine. Are you going to join me in here or not?"

"I'm not," she said curtly, then walked out of view.

House rolled his eyes. "Lisa…"

"_What_?" She sounded upset, and that made House cringe.

"Stand where I can see you, please."

She stepped back into the hallway, her head down, arms folded across her chest like she was suddenly freezing.

"Maybe you're trying to do too much too soon," House told her.

"I can't do _anything_. I can't even make myself walk to the goddamn bedroom," she cried. "How can I do _too much_?"

"You're used to being able to do everything by yourself, on your own," he began. "You're used to getting everything because you want it done. You're the boss, what you say goes. But now there's this _problem _that can't be escorted out by security or cured with the right medication and it's about to drive you crazy because there is no quick fix. You're not going to cure it by walking down the hallway, Lisa, but walking down that hallway will put you on the right path."

"How?" she asked weakly. House barely heard her. "I _cannot_ walk down that hallway."

"You can and you are." House's voice was sharp and to the point, like an impatient teacher trying to make his class behave. "Now listen to me. I've got my hand on the switch of this lamp. Did you hear that, Lisa?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I've got my hand on the switch. You are going to walk down the hallway and stand in the door for five seconds, then I'm going to turn the light on."

"No, I'm not."

"Get your ass in here, _now_."

"_No_!"

House paused, then decided to try a different strategy. "Get in here or get out," he said.

That threw Cuddy for a loop. She straightened up and looked into the bedroom like she couldn't believe her ears. "What the hell did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Greg, what the hell did you just say to me?"

"Have you gone deaf too? I said 'get in here or get out'," he answered flatly. "Pick one, Lisa."

A faint, nervous chuckle escaped her. "You can't--"

"Oh, yes I can. This is _my_ apartment and what I say goes."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you, too. You can either take ten lousy steps and get in here or you can go home and whine and fret and moan all night. Frankly, I'm getting a little sick and tired of listening to you whine myself."

"You _prick_," Cuddy snarled.

"Yeah, I'm a prick, and you're a stupid, weak, pathetic, whiny bitch. Is that what you want to be, Lisa? I'm sure everyone at the hospital would just _love_ to hear all about it--"

His words were cut of by thumping of Cuddy's footsteps pounding on the floorboards, echoing throughout the hallway and bedroom. She was silhouetted in the doorway, her shadow stretching all the way to the bed.

"One, two, three, four, five," she gasped. "_Turn the fucking light on_!"

A snick of a switch and the room was filled with soft white glow. The darkness was gone, pushed back. Cuddy focused her gaze on House. Incredibly, he was smiling.

"Reverse psychology," he said triumphantly. "Works every time. Right, boss?"

"I made it. I made it!" she cried, then climbed onto the bed, crawled up to him and threw her arms around his neck. "I made it!"

"I knew you could, boss," House said, relishing her victory.

"I don't believe it. Thank you, Greg."

"You're more than welcome."

"I did it! Fuck you, Nicole Wallace."

House laughed. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

She cupped his chin and tilted his head until their eyes met. "Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"If you _ever_ call me a stupid, whiny bitch again I will rip your tongue out ."


	8. Chapter 8

"Do you want the hall light on?" House asked Cuddy as she waited for him in the bed.

She thought for a moment, then answered, "I should be okay."

"You sure?"

"I'm fine as long as you're with me."

"That's the thing, Lisa," House said, leaning in the doorway. "You're hardly cured, and I can't and won't promise that I will be there the next time you wake up in the middle of night."

She frowned, knowing he was right. House was restless by nature and easily bored. Other than chaining him to the bed there was no possible way of keeping him from his near-nightly excursions to the living room. And keeping there with nothing to do night after night would be sheer torture.

"Make up your mind," he grumbled a bit impatiently. "My leg is starting to cramp."

"Leave it off," Cuddy replied. "If and when you get up, will you turn on the hall light and leave the door open a little?"

House limped to the bed and said, "Even if it wakes you up?"

"It will be better than waking up in the dark. We both know what happened last time."

"Yes, we do." He wasn't mocking her, just stating a fact. He noticed that Cuddy watched him quietly as he lifted his leg on the bed, then pulled up the blankets. As he reached for the lamp, he spoke over his shoulder: "Lights off, boss."

"I can handle it."

"I know."

_Click._

House smiled as she cuddled up to him, resting her head in the crook of his neck, encircled her arm around his waist. She needed him. She wanted him. She loved him. She couldn't get enough of him. He let those thoughts cover him like the blankets, then turned over slightly until his chin rested in a pile of her hair.

"Everything okay, boss?"

"Everything's fine."

"You're in good hands."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm here to protect you, my fair lady."

"That's why I like having you here. I know I'm safe with you."

House didn't know what to say. He didn't know if there was anything he could say without spoiling the moment, so he didn't say anything. Instead he just listened as her breathing became slower and deeper.

* * *

"How about a little less reading and a little more packing?" an exasperated House told Wilson. "Or do you plan on camping out in my hallway so you can read them all? I'll have to charge you rent if you do."

The oncologist didn't bother to look up. "It's interesting."

"It's a book. The words aren't going to rearrange themselves when you aren't looking. If you hadn't spent so much reading the damn things cover to cover you could have been finished and home by now."

"Do you need some help?" Cuddy called from the sofa, where she was labeling some boxes.

House called back, "I'm going to need your help digging a shallow grave for him if he doesn't hurry up!"

"Greg, let him take his time and go through them. Like you said before, they aren't going anywhere." Cuddy said, joining them at the bookshelves.

"The longer he takes, the longer it will take for me to move out of here," the diagnostician ranted.

"My home isn't going anywhere, either." She redirected her attention to Wilson. "How close are you to being done?"

"Nowhere near close. It's going to take me a few more days, at least." Wilson smirked when he saw House roll his eyes. "Have you actually read any of these?"

"Yeah, right."

"Then why do you have so many?"

"I needed something to put in the _bookshelves_. For some reason _books_ were an obvious choice. I'll be watching TV if you need me to sound out the big words for you."

"I was reading at a college level in the fourth grade, House."

"When I'm impressed you'll be the first to know," House grumbled as he turned to limp to the sofa. "Apparently that didn't you give the ability to read any faster than the rest of us drooling, backwards Neanderthals."

Cuddy grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Will you play something for me instead?"

"Sure." House looked at his lover and smiled. "Let's see if Brainiac over there can read through a non-stop selection the classics and jazz."


	9. Chapter 9

After nearly ten minutes of listening to them talking and laughing like two teenage lovebirds, Wilson peeked around the corner and watched them for a while. Cuddy was resting her chin on his shoulder, her arm around his waist. House was obviously reveling in all the attention she lavished on him. It was amazing to see them together and the effect she had on his demeanor--House became a human being in her presence. A decent, caring human being. If Kutner, Taub, or Thirteen were to see him now they'd all die from strokes on the spot.

Cuddy said something in a low, quiet voice that Wilson couldn't quite understand, but he did hear House say "Sure" and flip through the sheet music until he found what he was looking for. A request, no doubt; he would play anything and everything for her and only her. Cuddy loved to listen to the music he played as much as House enjoyed playing it for her. Wilson could picture them spending entire evenings at his piano, her arm around him and House grinning like a fool from ear to ear.

Wilson turned back to the books, leaving them to enjoy their music and their time together.

* * *

"Three minutes," House said stonily, then turned out the light.

Black. Pitch black. The door was closed. The curtains were shut tight. He had even covered the numbers on the alarm clock. Cuddy was sitting on the bed trying not to hyperventilate. The only thing keeping her from losing her mind right then and there was knowing that House was in the room with her. That, and all this was her damn idea to begin with and she was going to give it her best shot even if it killed her.

"How much longer?" she asked shakily.

"The alarm will go off soon. Just relax."

He was barely ten feet from her but his voice sounded far away. Just the dark playing tricks on her. The damn dark, where anyone could hide and wait for the perfect moment to strike, grab her ankle, squeeze her throat, drag her off to where no one would ever find her battered, broken body. Eventually she would just be a pile of bones, then dust.

She closed her eyes, which was kind of a joke in itself since there wasn't any difference in the pitch black that surrounded her. She willed herself to take slow, even breaths, not that it helped slow down her pounding heart. House could probably hear it thumping against her ribcage. Did House leave the window open? Did he remember to lock the front door? Some maniac could just walk right in and corner them…

"Greg, did you lock the front door?"

"It's locked."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." The certainty in his voice was reassuring. The front door was locked.

But she was still in the dark room as the seconds dragged on; the dark was like a solid force pushing against her, cutting off her airway, swallowing her whole. Thick enough to cut with a knife. Massive enough to crush her.

"Greg?"

"I'm here."

The alarm screeched through the darkness, slicing its way through the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing through Cuddy's skull. She shrieked right along with it, caught off guard as time seemed to stop the second the lamp was turned off. The screeching alarm ceased abruptly as light flooded the room and burned her eyes, she squinted against what seemed to be a spotlight aimed right at her.

"You made it, boss."

"Great," she gasped. "Just give me a minute to peel myself off the ceiling."

"Need some help?" House asked, almost sounding sincere.

"Come here," she demanded, holding out a hand. House entwined his fingers with hers and joined her at the edge of the bed. Before he had even sat down she was squeezing his hand hard enough to cut off the circulation. "That was the longest three minutes of my life."

"You made it."

"I did, didn't I?"

"You did good, boss. I have to say that I'm very impressed." He emphasized his point by planting a soft kiss on her temple.

"Thanks," she said. It sounded to House like she was thanking him for both being impressed at her enduring the three minutes in the dark and the kiss.

"You're welcome. I think we should celebrate. You've certainly earned a reward."

"As soon as my heart gets below 200 beats per minute."

House could see her face was flushed hot pink and she was still taking shallow breaths like she was cooling down from a grueling exercise session.

"Take your time. You think you can handle five minutes tomorrow?"

"Oh God, _no_!" Cuddy all but shouted as she buried her sweaty face in his chest. "Not two nights in a row. No way."

"Okay, boss, okay. Don't panic."

"I'll need at least a day to recover from this. Greg, you have no idea…"

"No, I guess I don't." He really didn't, but didn't feel the need to elaborate on it.

"That was three minutes of pure hell."

"It's over now, boss. You can have all the light you want."

"I want lots of light." She looked up at him. "And I want my reward."

He smiled. "A reward you shall get. You want some ice cream?"

"What kind?"

"Butter pecan."

"One scoop sounds wonderful," she said, standing up and tugging at his arm. "Make it two."


	10. Chapter 10

"How's she doing?" Goren asked.

"Pretty good, I'd have to say. Considering what she's been through it could have been a hell of a lot worse," House answered. Earlier that day he had emailed the New York City detective about Cuddy's little predicament, and Goren replied with an offer to chat about it anytime on their respective cell phones. Since Goren knew well enough to keep his mouth shut, House decided to take him up on that offer. And since Cuddy would murder him if she knew he was talking to someone about it, the diagnostician kept his voice low. "In a way I think she's kind of relieved that it's out in the open and she can get some kind idea of what she's up against."

It was one in the morning. He was on the sofa, facing the bedroom in case Cuddy woke up and called for him; the hall light on and bedroom door opened enough to keep her from having another meltdown. House had gone to bed with her earlier and stayed with her until he was sure she was in a deep sleep. After climbing out of bed as quietly as a man who needed a cane to walk could, he had made himself comfy on the sofa and punched in Goren's number. The detective, whose insomnia rivaled House's, had answered on the second ring.

The detective said, "She's sleeping?"

"Like a baby. Believe me, Bobby, you'll know if she wakes up."

"That's probably true," Goren replied with a small laugh. "I'm sure she's going to be fine, Dr. House."

"I'm sure she will be eventually," House agreed. "But that's the thing, I don't know how long eventually is going to take."

"You don't want this to drag on and on."

"Damn right I don't, and neither does she."

"Why isn't she seeing a shrink about this?"

"She's keeping that option open as a last resort. Right now she wants to keep it discreet and tackle it on her own. There's a mountain of papers and articles on nyctophobia she's been reading and she's taking the 'conquer your fear by facing it' approach."

"She's tenacious, isn't she?"

"You have no idea." House could hear music in the background on Goren's end of the phone. 'Break on Through' by The Doors. "When I had that recurring nightmare…good God, you should have seen all the stuff she printed out. Who knows how many trees she killed with all those articles she combed through. Get this-she bought a dream dictionary, for Christ's sake, and read it."

"You told me about that."

"She probably still has the damn thing."

"Is the 'facing her fear' approach working?"

"It's a little early in the game to tell for certain, but so far she seems to be making progress. She made through three minutes in a dark room last night and tomorrow we're going to go for five."

"_We_?"

"Yeah…well…," House began, "if you could have seen her in the hallway…"

"Was it that bad?" Goren asked as The Doors switched to Steppenwolf.

"It wasn't that bad. It was worse."

"I believe you," the detective said solemnly. "I'm sure this can't be easy for either of you."

"That's the understatement of the year. Bobby, can I ask you something about Nicole Wallace?"

Goren paused, then quietly asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Did she ever scare you?"

"The only time she scared me personally was when she broke into my apartment," Goren answered. "Until then I was scared for anyone who happened to cross her path. The only reason she didn't kill me was because she enjoyed yanking my chain too much." The detective cleared his throat and decided to change the subject. " Dr. House, are you and Cuddy still moving in together?"

"We're getting there. Right now it's still at the planning stage, deciding what stays and what goes. Things like that. Maybe Wilson will be finished looking through my books before the end of the decade."

The detective laughed and said, "Good luck with your move, Doctor, whenever it happens."

"Thanks. Something tells me I'm going to need all that luck and more."

"Hey, Eames asked about the two of you earlier today. She wants us to get together and have dinner again. If you and Cuddy can make it up here, I'll be more than happy to play host."

"A detective and a dinner host?" House expressed with mock admiration. "A man of many talents. Is there anything you _can't_ do, Bobby?"

"I can't split the atom or figure out how many licks it takes to get the center of a Tootsie pop. Well…not yet anyway," Goren snickered. "Plus what I lack in cooking skills I make up for in being within delivery distance of some of the finest food in New York."

"Very tempting. I'll ask Lisa tomorrow and let you know. How's Eames and-"

A voice called from down the hall: "_Greg_?"

"Shit!" House whispered.

"What? Is Cuddy up?"

"Yeah. I gotta go. I'll email you tomorrow," the doctor said quickly, then hung up the phone.

"Greg?"

"I'm here," he called out. "Is something wrong?"

"Will you come back to bed?"

House couldn't help but smile at her simple request. "Hang on." He grabbed his cane and pulled himself up. "I'll be right there."


	11. Chapter 11

Goren closed his cell phone and put it on the table, then drained his glass of Glenlivet. He had no doubt that Cuddy would conquer her nyctophobia and lingering fear of Nicole Wallace one way or another, but it would be interesting to see if she could do it on her own. House would keep him informed. Until Cuddy actually asked for his advice or just for him to just simply listen, Goren fully intended to keep his mouth shut. He wasn't supposed to know, after all. If he let it slip, Cuddy would strangle him after she had finished strangling House.

The true reason Nicole Wallace went back to House's apartment was buried with her. Her laptop was analyzed forwards, backwards, inside-out and upside-down; while they found various documents on House saved in a file named 'The Gimp'; Cuddy's file was named 'The Whore'; not mention an alarming number of documents and articles on Goren himself; maps, several of Nicole's aliases, detailed articles on poison, detective work, forensics, and dozens of other serial killers, but not one single item in her hard drive told him the real reason _why_. The best Goren could come up after reading the files was that 'the whore' was in love with 'the gimp' and deserved to have her teeth kicked in because of it.

Nicole Wallace. Nicole Fucking Wallace. Murderous psycho bitch who would kill you just as soon look at you. Well, maybe that was just a little off base; if you had something she wanted or needed, she'd wring every last drop out of you first, then kill you and toss you out with the trash. She had been crafty, cunning, too damned smart for her own good, and extraordinarily dangerous. Yet she had met her maker at the hands of…the gimp.

How's that for irony, psycho bitch? Goren thought, then filed Nicole Wallace away.

Though another dinner together wasn't a sure thing as of yet, the detective began to make a list of things to do--clean his apartment top to bottom and back again, make sure there was some red wine for Cuddy and a bottle of scotch for House, and last but not least, the menu. Something simple but fancy enough to make it look like he put an effort into it, and made a mental note to ask Eames for a few ideas. And to ask her to bring the dessert.

* * *

She threw the covers back as he limped to the bed and climbed into it, then threw them back over him with a laugh, wondering if he could sense her grinning in dark bedroom.

"Miss me, boss?" House asked as he gathered her into his arms.

"You know I did," she replied, then gave him a few quick kisses before allowing herself to be crushed against him like a rag doll.

"Were you worried when you woke up alone?" He sounded sincerely interested in her answer.

"I was for a few seconds," she admitted, and couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice at her perceived weakness. "But the light was on, which was a good thing. Then you answered as soon as I called for you, which was even better."

"What if I hadn't answered right away?" House pressed on.

"I don't know. Maybe I would have panicked, maybe not." She rested her head in the crook of his neck. "But you're here now and I'm fine and that's what really matters."

"It's five minutes in the dark tomorrow, boss," he reminded her. "I'm not letting you get out of it."

"I know."

"I mean it."

"I know."

"Lisa," House began, then paused for a moment like he was thinking about what to say and how to say it and weighing his choice of words. "This nyctophobia, what exactly does it do to you? What is there in the dark besides Nicole Wallace hiding?"

She hadn't been expecting this question, now she had to find ananswer it that made some sort of sense. "It's…a lot of things," she began. "It's scary because you can't see anything that might in the room with you, just waiting to reach out and grab you. It can be like floating in endless space or suffocating while the walls are closing in. It's a solid, choking force that crushes you until there is no breath left in you. It's like being tangled in a thousand ropes and the more you struggle the tighter they get until there's no more life left in you."

"_Damn_," House muttered. It was only then that he was aware her nails were digging into his side.

"Tell me about it."

"You made it through three minutes with flying colors-"

"Not hardly."

"I say so, so there. Anyway, five minutes shouldn't be a problem."

"It's two minutes longer," Cuddy said.

"You'll make it, boss."

"You sound so sure. You make it sound so easy."

"I'll be sure to make it worth your while."

"With what? More ice cream?"

"Better than ice cream," House said salaciously.

"What is it?"

"It's a surprise."

"But it's better than ice cream. Mmmm…sounds intriguing."

"Damn right," he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Now does five minutes in the dark seem so bad?"


	12. Chapter 12

"This is torture," she said shakily, her words floating away into the darkness beyond her. The damned evil darkness where it was too easy to get lost and never be able to find a way back. "How much longer?"

"It's five minutes. Only five minutes. Calm down, Lisa."

It may have the pitch black playing tricks on her or her own mind playing tricks, but he sounded much further away. He was standing over by the alarm clock, only a few feet away but it might as have been a hundred miles. He refused to sit with her and hold hand, insisting it was for the better. While she agreed with that, she was not a child who needed to be coddled, she still silently cursed him for not being by her side. She longed for something to hold onto, to keep her grounded, and dug her hands into the comforter so hard for a moment she thought she had torn the fabric.

"Fuck you," Cuddy grumbled, suddenly irritated at his calmness and the fact that he wasn't the least bit afraid.

"Not now, boss," House said dryly, knowing it was her fear and exasperation at her predicament talking. "The night is still young and we can scream each other's names and shake the paint off the walls later. Right now I just need you to sit there for a few minutes. Is that too much to ask?"

"You don't know what you're asking." She looked toward the general direction where his voice was coming from and frowned even though he couldn't see it.

"Yes, I do. And so do you."

"How much longer?"

"A watched pot never boils, boss."

"This fucking present of yours better be worth it."

"Prepare to be dazzled."

"Dazzled?"

"You better believe it," he said coyly.

He had been teasing her about her impending gift all day, and her curiosity was definitely piqued. Between trying to pry hints of what her gift might be out of House and the dread of spending five excruciating minutes in hell, she thought she was going to explode from frustration. If I live through the next few minutes that damned gift had better live up to the hype, she thought.

"I just want this to be over with," she said, and House knew she wasn't talking about just making it through another session of sitting in the dark.

"One step at a time, Lisa."

A screech cut through the room, cut through the dark, and echoed in her head. The alarm, its piercing wail that she had been waiting for and was never prepared for so it always made her heart leap into her throat. The five minutes was over. She had made it through relatively unscathed.

Blessed light filled the room, a beautiful golden glow that pushed that dark back into the corners and forced it to hide under the bed. Cuddy looked over to see House smiling.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.

Instead of answering she just held out her hand. It was a silent invitation House knew better than to turn down. Taking her hand, he settled next to her on the edge of the bed. The realization that it was over and she had won swept through her; she leaned into him and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Everything okay there, boss?"

"It's fine. Just give me a minute to come back down to earth."

"Don't take too long because you'll be on cloud-nine soon enough."

"What?"

"You made it through five minutes. I think that it's time for your present."

She looked into his blue eyes and couldn't look away even though she felt herself drowning in them. "Have I really earned it?"

"Dark or no dark, fear or no fear, would I buy you a present if I didn't think for one second you didn't deserve it?"

"No."

"Well then, I think that's settled. Now close your eyes."

She blinked, hesitated, and he noticed.

"The light is staying on," House reassured her. "Close your eyes for a few seconds."

Cuddy nodded and did what he asked. The sound of the drawer in the night table being open drifted over. Her present had been five feet away from her the whole time and she didn't have the slightest clue.

An object was pressed into her hand.

"You can open your eyes now."

She did and saw a box. Opening it she saw a pair of diamond and ruby drop earrings set in white gold.

As Cuddy hurried to take off the gold hoops she was already wearing, House carefully picked up one of the earrings.

"Fear can be conquered; it doesn't last forever," House said. "I have a feeling these earrings will outlast the need to sleep with a light on."


	13. Chapter 13

She wore the earrings for the rest of the evening, even going so far as to pin her hair up so she could see the gems glitter in various reflections. A beautiful surprise gift from a man who wasn't big on gifts, giving or receiving. A pair of earrings now…perhaps a diamond ring later? No, no, she thought, don't get your hopes up. House loved her, she knew that well enough, but marriage was not in the foreseeable future, or forseeable at all. Let him move in and settle down for a while, then see what happens. In the meantime she would appreciate the earrings for what they were--a thoughtful gesture.

It was the middle of the night and she was wrapped in his arms, safe and sound. Much to her relief the hall light was on; combined with House's presence in the bed it made her all the more calm. House had drifted off to sleep an hour ago, but Cuddy was still going through her mental list of things to do in the coming days. The earrings were off now, back in their box and the box was tucked away in her purse. Tomorrow morning she would have to look her schedule to see when she and House could take up Goren's dinner invitation. Gas prices and nyctophobia be damned, they all deserved a nice night out in good company. The coming Saturday night was most likely free but she needed to double check and make sure all her bases were covered. And there was a gorgeous red silk blouse at Nordstrom's that would great with her new earrings.

* * *

"Earrings?" Wilson asked, sounding skeptical.

"Yup," House said as he relaxed on the sofa in Wilson's office. The oncologist didn't know the whole story about Cuddy's battle with nyctophobia, and because House was afraid that Wilson would inadvertently blab it around, he wasn't going to fill him on it just yet. At there was a 50 mile buffer zone between them and Goren most of the time. Wilson and Cuddy saw each other nearly every day. If she wanted Wilson to know all about her condition she could tell him herself.

"Diamonds and rubies?"

"Yup. All nice and sparkly. Women love sparklies."

"Are said sparklies real?"

"Of course they're fucking real!" House shot his friend warning glare. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to buy her junk jewelry? I like my testicles where they are, thank you."

Wilson grinned as he put a label on a new patient file. "Since when does Gregory House buy expensive presents for anyone?" the oncologist asked.

"Since he knows he has a good thing with Lisa Cuddy and he better not fuck it up."

"Since when does Gregory House talk about himself in third person?"

"Since his douchebag best friend asked him stupid questions like he was talking to someone else."

As he made sure all the paperwork was in order, Wilson said, "Well, I have to say it's good that you realize that you have a good thing with her."

"Damn right I do," House muttered, almost to himself.

"What did she say when you gave them to her?"

"She went on and on about how beautiful they were, how she wasn't expecting it, things like that." The diagnostician grinned.

"Anything else?"

"Well, later she screamed '_Yes! Yes! Oh, Greg!_' loud enough to be heard down the block, but I don't think that anything to do with the earrings."

"Me neither," Wilson said with a roll of his eyes.

"Bobby is having a little get-together at his place this Saturday and wants to know if you can tag along. Interested?" House said.

"This Saturday?"

"That's what I said. Would you like me to use semaphore flags to convey that concept to you?"

"You don't have to. I can't make it," Wilson answered with a trace of regret. "I have a thirteen-year-old patient flying in that day and I want to make sure I dot all the i's and cross all the t's. Send Bobby and Alex my regards."

"Can't your patient fly in on Sunday?"

"House--"

"I'm joking. See, I got laid last night and therefore I'm in a pretty good mood right now."

"You don't say," Wilson replied dryly, suddenly engrossed in his stupefying files.

House smirked at his friend, knowing the real reason behind Wilson's badly feigned disinterest. "Spoken like a man who hasn't had any in a good, long time. That's alright, Jimmy. I understand. I'll leave you and your right hand alone for a while."

House got up and quietly left Wilson's office. As soon as the door was shut he heard Wilson bang his head on his desk.


	14. Chapter 14

"You look fine," House said as he leaned in the bathroom doorway, watching Cuddy curl her eyelashes. "We need to get going."

"Five more minutes." She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and went back to work on her lashes. "I'm almost done."

"We're going to get caught in traffic and end up being late. I'll be forced to tell Bobby that it's all your fault."

"We're fine." She put down the eyelash curler and checked herself in the mirror for the millionth time. The ruby earrings glittered below her pinned-up hair, the brand new blazing red silk blouse tucked carefully into a narrow black skirt. The only thing she had truly frowned about was her hand; still bothering her and now wrapped in an Ace bandage. "I'm almost done."

"That's what you said ten minutes ago."

"We'll be out the door in five minutes."

House looked at his watch. "Five minutes, starting…now."

House was wearing jeans, Converse sneakers, one of his many ill-fitting jackets and a freshly ironed navy blue shirt. Cuddy had told him he was going to wear the shirt she had ironed for him or he could look forward to riding to New York in the trunk of her car. House wore it but refused to tuck it in, threatening to sell her earrings on Ebay if she got overzealous in dressing him up.

"You're going to knock them dead, boss."

Catching his smiling reflection, Cuddy said, "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."

"Thanks," House said, though Cuddy knew he was only saying it to be polite and he couldn't care less what he looked like. "You can iron the rest of my shirts if you want."

"You can iron them yourself and save me the trouble."

"I don't do ironing. Throwing my clothes in the washer and dryer and putting them away is the most you can ever expect out of me and my laundry," House said, limping into the bathroom and slipping an arm around her waist, the silk blouse feeling like water in his hand.

"So I'm going to be stuck ironing your shirts when we move in? Is that what you're saying, Greg?" Cuddy asked as their blue eyes met in the mirror. "Am I your little French maid now?"

He snickered and said, "I'm saying that I don't need or want you to turn into June Cleaver. You have your laundry and I have mine. As long as my clothes are clean and as long as they fit, that's all I need."

"If that's what you want."

"It is. But you're more than welcome to iron my shirts if you really really want to."

"I don't think so."

"Do you have a little French maid outfit?"

"Not yet." She smiled at their reflections. "I think the five minutes are up."

"Close enough." House straightened up and turned towards the door. "Let's go."

* * *

Goren opened the door to his apartment and filled the doorway with his blinding white smile and best grey suit with a blue and green striped tie. From behind him the scent of cooking food wafted out, making House's mouth water. He hadn't eaten in hours and was dying for a snack and a glass of scotch.

"Dr. Cuddy," the detective greeted and gave her a friendly peck on the cheek. "It's great to see you." He took her bandaged hand, holding it as gently as he would hold a small animal. "It's about time you got to come to New York under pleasant circumstances."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Cuddy agreed.

"Neither could I." Eames appeared, wearing a tan suit with a crisp white shirt. "This has certainly been a long time coming."

Goren turned back to his other guest and gave him a pat on the back. "Dr. House, I trust the drive wasn't too bad?"

"Of course not. I live for horrendous traffic," came the diagnostician's deadpan reply. Peeking around Goren's large frame House couldn't help but notice Eames taking a long close-up look at a certain pair of ruby and diamond earrings.

"They're _gorgeous_!" He heard the lady detective gush as he limped inside.

"I know the traffic is awful," Goren began as he closed the door and walked with House to the living room. "How about a drink to take the edge off?"

"You're a prince among men, Detective."

"I wouldn't go that far," Goren laughed. "Something tells me you would love some scotch."

House laughed back and said, "I take that back. You're a king."


	15. Chapter 15

"He did what?" Goren called from the kitchen, where he checked on dinner, then retrieved the hors d'oeuvres for his guests. He returned with one plate of chicken salad croissants and another plate of fruit and cheese.

House gobbled down two croissants before answering, "He threw the cards against the wall."

The detective paused to refill Cuddy's glass of wine and asked, "Why the wall?"

"Part of the trick, otherwise it wouldn't have been nearly as snazzy. One of them stuck to the wall, just hanging there like a tiny little picture. If I remember correctly it was a jack. I told him he was a hack and peeled the jack off the wall. Underneath it was my card."

"Are you serious?" Eames asked with a short laugh. "It was really the card you picked?"

"Damn right. That even shocked me," House replied, taking the piece of cheese Cuddy handed him. "It wasn't even the ace of spades or some obvious card like that it. It was a five or something equally bland and instantly forgettable."

Goren, staying near the kitchen, chuckled and said, "So he wasn't a hack after all."

"Nope. The schmuck knew what he was doing. He wasn't wowing all the yahoos who had just lost their life savings on the blackjack table by pulling a rabbit out of a hat. The hell of it is even when he thought he was dying, the bastard never did tell me how he did that trick."

"Is he still performing in Atlantic City?" Goren asked.

"As far as I know," House answered. "But I doubt he's doing that underwater trick anymore. He's probably sawing someone's girlfriend in half as we speak."

The food and scotch were helping House relax and he continued on about the unfairness of not learning the magic trick even though the magician could have _died_. Goren, with his glass of Glenlivet and excellent view of the living room, took a few mental notes. House and Cuddy were sitting on one end of the sofa, Eames on the other end. Cuddy's hair pinned up to show off her earrings and the new blouse to go along with them. He noticed Cuddy's bandaged hand on House's thigh, Houses arm stretched across the back of the sofa; it was only a matter of time before it would be draped around her shoulders. One of these days he would have to ask House just what it was about Cuddy that made him want to bring out the inner romantic he hid so carefully from everyone else.

"There's still hope," Eames teasingly reassured the diagnostician. "Who says he won't get another life-threatening illness and need your help again?"

"Good thinking, Alex. Here's to kinda-sorta hack magicians everywhere." House raised his scotch in a mock toast, then downed it one gulp.

"Save some of that for dinner, Doctor," Goren said.

"The faster dinner gets here, the more will be saved." The doctor reached for the bottle and poured himself a refill. "When is dinner, or are these little croissant thingies supposed to tide us over until breakfast?"

"The croissants are for dinner. The cheese is for breakfast."

"Ha ha. You're a riot, Bobby."

"Fifteen more minutes, Doctor. I'm sure you won't have to resort to cannibalism by then."

Giving the detective one of his trademark smirks, House said, "This feast of yours better live up to the hype and the drive over here, that's all I have to say."

Goren laughed and came back with, "Well, all I have to say is I hope enjoy the rosemary chicken, broccoli and cauliflower, and red potatoes."

"Sounds wonderful!" Cuddy exclaimed. "I can't wait!"

Nodding her head in agreement, Eames chimed in with, "He could have gone to the best culinary school in France on be TV with Wolfgang Puck. But he wanted to be a cop. Go figure."

"I never wanted to be a chef," Goren clarified. "I consider cooking to be a hobby or a pleasure. But being a cop, that's a career and one I always had my eye one."

Eames knew it was the truth, but decided to tease her partner anyway. "So if the Food Network asked you to guest host a show, you would turn them down?"

"No," Goren answered with a shrug. "But I wouldn't quit my day job either." He then turned his attention to his guests. "Dr. Cuddy, I heard through the grapevine that you happen to love key lime pie."

"I do," Cuddy replied with a dazzling smile.

The detective smiled back. "I'm sure I can find one for dessert."

"Really?" She turned back to House and give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Telling Bobby what my favorite dessert is so he could have one here. You are just too wonderful."

House looked her in the eye and said, "I know, but you can go ahead and say it whenever you want. Really, I don't mind a bit."


	16. Chapter 16

House scraped the last remains of chicken and potatoes on his plate, then polished off his dinner with one last gulp, followed by some iced tea to wash it down. Cuddy had switched to tea just before sitting down to eat since she was driving home later, and being arrested for a DUI wasn't in her plans. Deciding getting utterly and completely smashed in a cop's apartment wasn't the best way to leave a positive impression on New York's finest, not to mention the woman he was going to move in with, a tall glass of iced tea was just what he needed.

"You get enough to eat, Doctor?" Goren asked. The detective had cleaned his plate a bit earlier and had been chatting away with Cuddy.

"I think so," House answered, feeling ready to burst as he pushed his plate away.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"There's a few pieces of chicken left," Goren informed the table. "Help yourselves."

House sloshed the watered-down tea around his glass and said, "I wouldn't want to eat it all and deprive you of reheating the leftovers in the breakroom microwave tomorrow, Bobby."

"I've never used that microwave. It hasn't been cleaned since Ed Koch was mayor. Besides, Eames and I are usually chasing down leads during lunchtime. Our meals are on-the-go."

"We're on a first-name basis with half the hot dog vendors in the city," Eames said, then smirked at Goren. "But I must say that I wouldn't mind eating like this more often."

"I'm your partner, Eames, not your personal chef."

"Who says you can't be both?" Cuddy chimed in.

House said, "I'm sure Captain Ross will understand."

Goren stood up and began to gather the empty plates. "Captain Ross would eat _us_ for lunch," he said over the clink of silverware and glasses, "and eat our leftover body parts for a week as a warning to everyone else."

"He would do just that," Eames agreed. "Though that image isn't exactly what I need on a full stomach."

"This Ross fellow sounds a little thin on charm," House said.

"Charm isn't a job requirement," Goren said impassively. "He's not my biggest fan, I know that as well as he does. We don't see eye-to-eye and probably never will. But what can I say? I'm still here."

"And so is Ross, who is still your boss," House noted, and chuckled at the unintentional rhyme. He knew damn good and well what it was like for Goren--being eccentric and unorthodox in just about everything he did--to spend his entire life working with and for people who could barely tolerate his presence. He also knew that as long as Goren got to be left alone to solve his mysteries, he couldn't care less what those people thought of him. "I take it you two don't exchange Christmas cards."

"He's Jewish, so the answer is no." Goren took the dishes to the kitchen and called, "Who wants coffee?"

All three people at the table chimed in with, "I do!"

"Do you need some help, Bobby?" Cuddy asked.

"No, thank you, Dr. Cuddy."

"Enough with the formalities already! Just call me Lisa."

"No, thank you, Dr. Lisa." Cabinets creaked open, then the rattle of a dishwasher rack being pulled out.

"Dinner was wonderful, Bobby. Thank you," Cuddy said.

"Yes, it was," Eames agreed.

"You're welcome. Coffee will be ready in a few minutes."

House gave an overdramatic scowl. "You mean it's not ready _now_? What kind of host are you?"

"The kind who will arrest you for disorderly conduct if you whine too much," was Goren's matching overdramatic answer.

"He's not serious…is he?" asked House.

"I wouldn't push my luck trying to find out," Eames replied dryly.

"At least wait until after dessert," Cuddy said, patting his arm.

"I wouldn't want to come between you and your key lime pie," House muttered. He looked down at his hands, a napkin was crumpled in them. If a cabinet hadn't been in the way, he would have thrown the napkin into the kitchen and beamed Goren in the head.


	17. Chapter 17

Cuddy and Eames sat together at the end of the sofa, plates of key lime pie in hand, cooing over the pictures of Eames's nephew.

"He starts kindergarten soon," Eames said. "I can't believe it."

"Does he really?" Cuddy paused with a forkful of pie halfway to her mouth. "It seems like just yesterday you were showing me his baby pictures."

"Tell me about it." The blonde detective rolled her eyes. "I'll be showing pictures of his college graduation before you know it."

Not one to drool over family pictures, House made sure he was sitting well on the other side of the sofa lest he be dragged into it. When he looked up at Goren and the detective jerked his head towards the kitchen, House didn't need a telegram to figure out that Goren had probably been inundated with nephew pictures as well. He grabbed his plate of pie with one hand and his cane with the other, he joined the detective in the kitchen, well away from the giggling women and sappy photos.

"Those are some nice earrings Dr. Cuddy's wearing," Goren said with a knowing grin.

"For what I paid for them, they damn well better be," House replied as he leaned against the counter and dug into the rest of his dessert.

"She bought that blouse to go with them, didn't she?"

"That she did. She came home raving about how it was the last one and it was like it was hanging on the rack in the store just for her."

Goren took a bite of his dessert, then said, "Well, she certainly looks gorgeous tonight. You're a lucky man, Dr. House."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. If you don't mind me asking, is it your anniversary? Is that why you broke the bank for those earrings?"

House suddenly realized that he and Cuddy had never celebrated any kind of anniversary. She had never mentioned one and he had never thought about it. But if he had to pick a date as their anniversary, he would pick the Halloween night when he had kissed her. He also decided not to bring it up. Remembering her birthday once a year was enough of a challenge for him.

"No," House answered. "I got them because…because I felt she deserved them."

"Sounds like a good reason to me," Goren said.

"I'm sure Lisa would agree with you."

The detective asked, "How's the nyctophopia?" with a lowered voice. In the living room the two women were laughing and he doubted they could hear him, but neither he nor House were about to risk Cuddy's wrath in finding out if they were wrong.

"She's still sleeping with a light on," the diagnostician answered with a slight frown. "She's still afraid Nicole Wallace is hiding under the bed, waiting for her."

"I can't really blame Dr. Cuddy for being afraid of Nicole, even in death." Goren ate the last bite of his pie and rinsed off the empty plate. "God knows how many other people sleep with the lights on after crossing paths with her."

House shuddered at the thought. He looked at the last remaining bites of his pie, his appetite gone. He finished it anyway. Goren took the plate and rinsed it off without a word.

"What about you, Bobby?"

Goren blinked as he opened the dishwasher. "What do you mean?"

"Did you ever sleep with the lights on because of Nicole Wallace?"

The detective put the pie plates in the rack and closed it back up before answering, "I slept with my gun on the nightstand." Goren tilted his head and looked down the hall towards his bedroom. "I kept doing that for a week after she died."

House raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Just in case?"

"Can't be too careful." He faced House. "Dr. Cuddy did deserve those nice earrings."

"Damn right."

"Hey!" Cuddy called. "The men are missing!"

"I better call Captain Ross," Eames said. "We can have fifty cops and a dozen search dogs here in ten minutes."

"Greg," Cuddy said in faux-whiny voice, "where are you?"

"The moon," House answered. "Where do you think I am?"

"You're not with me. Get in here!"

"Damn clingy women," House muttered loud enough for everyone to hear as he limped back to the sofa. "I leave the room for five minutes and it's the end of the world."

"Call off the search party, Eames," Goren said.

"I would, but I never called it to begin with."

"All the better," Goren replied blithely, then looked at his guests. "It's still early. Care for a rematch, Dr. House?"

"Rematch of what?"

The detective grinned. "I've got a new chess set. Would you like to defend your title?"

House grinned right back. "Bring it on."


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Possible spoilers for the L&O:CI episode "Gone"._

* * *

It was tough battle on the sixty-four squares, and someone had to lose. Looking at the seemingly pathetic pile of stolen chess pieces in front him, compared to the alarmingly large pile in front of Goren, House knew it was just a matter of time before he went down in a flaming wreckage and Goren would cheerfully announce "Checkmate!". As the detective snagged the second bishop, House could now count that time in single digit minutes.

He valiantly tried to protect his king, but all for naught as Goren's pieces far outnumbered his. He had lost, fair and square. Time to give it up. Instead letting his queen be taken, House pulled together what dignity he had left as far as getting his ass kicked was concerned and let his last rook be sacrificed instead.

"That would be checkmate, Doctor," Goren said, somehow managing to not sound like he was gloating.

"So it is, Detective," House replied, and held out his hand. "Well done."

Goren shook the doctor's hand. "Thank you."

"That's why I stopped playing chess with Bobby," Eames said, playfully elbowing her partner in the ribs. "I always got my ass handed to me."

"You beat me once, Eames."

"Yeah…_once_."

"I play to win," Goren said unapologetically. "Otherwise there's no point in playing."

"And how many times did you beat me before I had to give up or else go insane?"

"I lost count." Goren tried not to laugh.

"Liar."

"Well, if you want an _exact_ number, I can't say. But it had to have been around fifty times or so."

"Close enough." Eames gave an overdramatic sigh. "Too bad Bobby Fischer's dead. You would have cut off a finger for a chance play him, right?"

"I'd consider it," Goren answered, sounding almost serious.

"And David Blake is in a mental hospital," Cuddy said.

Goren smiled. "Think Blake would play a game with me?"

"No," House said.

"Why not?"

"Why should he?" House puzzled. "No offense, Bobby, you're a good player, but Blake is a master. Mental or not, I'm sure he can still play a cutthroat game with one arm tied behind his back."

"Plus Blake probably doesn't know what planet he's on, let alone remember you," Eames said to her partner.

"Remember you?" Cuddy echoed and blinked. "You know David Blake?"

Eames answered, "You could say that."

"How?"

"Eames and I arrested him," Goren stated matter-of-factly as House and Cuddy gaped. "He was pretty far gone by the time we caught up with him, raving on and on about government conspiracies against him. But even through all that paranoia you could see he still loved the game. I agree he'd probably wipe the board with me without even trying. But I'd still play a game with him just to say I did. I just hope he doesn't ask me to cut off a body part for the priviledge."

* * *

"Goren liked your earrings," House told Cuddy as she turned onto the freeway.

"Did he? That's nice to hear."

"Yup." House remembered Goren's anniversary question and decided to keep it to himself. "He liked your new blouse, too."

"He noticed it was new?"

"You know he did."

"Yes, I do. I'm glad we got to see Bobby and Alex." Cuddy smiled at House. "I had a nice time tonight."

"Good for you."

"Didn't you, Greg?"

"Well, Bobby didn't have to kick my sorry ass at chess, but other than that…"

Cuddy gently swatted his arm and said, "Sore loser."

She was glad House and Goren had become friends, and that Goren was able to get House out of the house, so to speak. All too often House got impatient and just plain bored with the people around him; Goren, being just as witty and insanely intelligent as House, was more than House's match. Both the detective and the doctor were in eccentric genius heaven.

She asked, "So, when are you two going for the tie-breaker?"

"As soon as possible," House answered like there wasn't any doubt in anyone's mind, and there probably wasn't.

"I doubt it will happen too soon, considering our schedules and their schedules-"

"But it _will_ happen, Lisa."

"I have no doubt. I'll keep an eye on our schedules and see what I can do, all right?"

"All right."

She put her hand on his knee. He placed his hand over hers.


	19. Chapter 19

He was propped up on the bed, watching her. He liked watching her. She pretended not to notice his eyes following her around the room as she took the earrings off and put them back in their box. She pretended to ignore him as she unclipped her hair and let it fall in an ebony cascade to her shoulders. She never looked at him as she changed out of her skirt and blouse into a Jack Daniels shirt and sweatpants. His eyes never left her for a second. Whatever House found so mesmerizing about her bedtime routine was still a mystery to her as he never gave a straight answer when she asked. One of his weird kinks; it could certainly be worse. She smiled at him as she walked out of the room and snickered softly when she heard him say, "Don't keep me waiting too long, boss."

She brushed her teeth, purposely taking her sweet time. Just as she put her toothbrush back in the holder, she heard him call out, "How many goddamn teeth do you have to brush, anyway?"

As she washed her face he began to whistle the theme song from _Jeopardy_.

She walked to bedroom doorway, leaning into it, folding her arms in front of her and crossing one leg over the other. He had a soft smile and steely gaze that let her know he was enjoying himself in spite of her deliberately driving him nuts. "Just what is your hurry?" she asked with feigned exasperation.

"I spent all evening under the watchful eyes of two of New York's finest," House answered. "Now I'd like some alone time with my honey."

_Honey_. He just called her _honey_ again. Cuddy couldn't help it when her face split into a ridiculously wide smile. "If you didn't want to see them tonight, Greg, all you had to do was ask them to reschedule dinner."

"I never said I wanted them to reschedule. I enjoyed their company and now I'd like to enjoy yours."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is. Now get that nicely toned ass of yours over here."

She didn't move. "What's in it for me, Dr. House?"

"Me," he said salaciously. "I'm the moon and you're the tides."

"So you're saying that you're an irresistible force," Cuddy said with a raised eyebrow.

"Something like that."

"Then why am I still over here?"

"Because I'm too lazy to get up and throw you on the bed before I show you what makes the world turn."

"You certainly know how to sweep a girl off her feet," Cuddy drolled, making sure the hall light was on before moving from the door and over to her side of the bed. Though the thought of House doing exactly what he just said sent a delicious shiver down her spine; picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder before throwing her on the bed, covering her body with his own. He most certainly would have done that if he could have, in a heartbeat.

Still not through teasing him just, she made like she was going to climb and join, but paused at the last second. "Well, you did lose at chess tonight…"

"A fluke," House said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll get him next time."

"Are you sure?"

"Damn right. Now hurry up before I say I have a headache and leave you high and dry."

"Okay." She smiled and slid under the covers.

In no time House was taking his half out of the middle, his arms wrapped around her back and his mouth crushed hers. His kiss tasted faintly of scotch and she savored every second of it.

He eventually broke away, leaving her feeling dizzy and giddy, her heart racing in her chest like the horses at the Kentucky derby. "Mmmmmm…," Cuddy began after catching her breath, "how could any girl resist _that_?"

"Not you," House replied and gave her that satisfied smirk she had come to love.

"You got that right." She brought her hand up to his face, softly stroking his scruffy cheek with her thumb.

His skilled hands found their way under her shirt, caressing the warm, smooth skin there.

"Do you know what Bobby told me tonight?" House asked.

"What?" she asked as his fingers began to trace random patterns across her belly. "There's a warrant out for your arrest in New York City?"

"Not quite. As he was admiring your pretty earrings and your pretty new blouse and your pretty self, he told me I was a lucky man."

Her breath caught in her throat before she was able to gasp out, "Really?"

"Yes, really. I certainly have to agree with him."

"He really said that?"

"He did, boss."

"Greg…," Cuddy began, "are you making that up?"

"Nope," he answered nonchalantly as he began to play with the waistband of her sweatpants. "Call him if you don't believe me. I'm sure he's still up."

She laughed, feeling like her heart was going to burst through her chest. She pushed him back, then climbed on top him. "No need to call anyone. I believe you," Cuddy declared as she helped him pull his shirt off.


	20. Chapter 20

"Greg!" Cuddy called, putting the finishing touches on breakfast. The kitchen smelled of toast and eggs and coffee. She was starving, and tired of House waiting until he was damn good and ready to get his lazy ass into the kitchen.

"What?" House said from the bedroom.

"Are you planning on making it out here sometime this morning? Are you even dressed yet?"

"I'm getting there."

"How long does it take to put on a shirt and pants? Hurry up! Your breakfast is almost ready."

"I'll be out in a minute."

"You said that ten minutes ago." She scraped half the pan of scrambled eggs onto his plate, creating a lumpy yellow mountain. "Don't start bitching at me if your food is cold by the time you get out here."

She could hear him going "blah, blah, blah" along with the dull scraping and thudding of dresser drawers being opened and closed as she sliced and buttered the toast.

House called out, "Don't forget the pepper!"

"I won't. Do you want some orange juice?"

"Coffee's fine," House replied with another round of scraping and thumping of drawers.

"Your food is ready and it's not getting any warmer."

"Hold your horses already!"

Cuddy set his plate on the table and decided a tall glass of orange juice for herself was in order. She practically had to crawl inside the fridge to get it since House kept pushing the carton to the back to make room for his sodas and beer.

She closed the fridge and turned around to see Nicole Wallace standing there, dressed in black from head to toe, a syringe in her hand.

"Remember me?" Nicole asked sweetly, then her face twisted into a snarl of rage and the hand holding the syringe slammed into Cuddy's throat and a sharp stinging pain...

"_No_!" The word echoed in Cuddy's ears for what seemed like hours before she realized it was her voice screaming it.

She hear her name being repeated over and over again, then a pair of rough, callused hands grabbed her face. "No!" she screamed again and twisted away. The same rough hands grabbed her wrists and held on, forcing her out of her nightmare. A pair of bright blue eyes blinked at her with concern.

"Lisa…Lisa, it's okay," House said in low and soothing voice as he let go of her arms and smoothed her hair away from her forehead. "You're safe and sound in your own home."

Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the cream colored walls, the dressers she had bought as a Christmas present to herself five years ago. The alarm clock told her it was too early in the morning. The bed that was too small for her too tall lover and the flowery bedspread now twisted all around her. It was all familiar, comforting. It was her home, she was safe in it. House was with her, wrapping an arm around her as she took a few deep breaths to help her come back to earth. Just her and House. No homicidal maniacs with an accent and a syringe full of poison.

"You okay there, boss?" House asked as he hugged her closer.

"I don't know," she said, her voice shaky. In her mind she could see all the nights ahead of her, waking screaming because Nicole Wallace is still very much alive in her nightmares, endless nights of waking up shaking, crying, afraid.

"Judging from how loud you screamed, this one must have been a doozy."

"It was." She rubbed her neck, half expecting to find syringe sticking out of it.

"Nicole Wallace again?"

"Yeah."

Cuddy suddenly felt exhausted, like she had just finished a triathlon without bothering to train for it. Her limbs felt heavy, sore; sweat trickled along her scalp and down her back.

"You wanna talk about it, boss?" He slowly threaded his fingers through her hair, just like she sometimes did for him when he was upset.

"Nothing much to talk about. She just appeared out of nowhere, ready to kill me."

"Where was nowhere?"

"Hmm?" She looked up at him, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Where were you when she showed up?"

"In the kitchen, making us breakfast." Cuddy answered, then chuckled humorlessly. "It was just so…_normal_. There I was, making breakfast like June Cleaver, yelling at you to get your ass in there--"

"I don't think June Cleaver said anything like that to Ward."

"--and then I turn around there she was, ready to shove a syringe in my throat."

Cuddy reached for her neck again. House took her hand away from her neck and gently pushed it down until it was on her lap, resting on her pink flowery comforter.

"You don't have to do that." His voice was soft, but his eyes were intense, burning. "There's nothing there, Lisa. There's nothing there."


	21. Chapter 21

It was a mistake. A huge mistake. Granted, House had let her take an extra three days after the latest Nicole Wallace nightmare to get ready, but it was still a mistake. Cuddy wasn't anywhere near ready. She should have called it off. But something in her wouldn't back down, wouldn't throw in the towel even when the odds clearly were not in her favor. And now she was going to pay for it, big time. Now she was going to have to face a second round of utter and complete humiliation.

It was just five minutes in a dark room. Five lousy minutes. How hard could that be? House would be there with her, as usual, providing a comforting voice of reassurance.

What could possibly go wrong?

Everything.

The light went off with a faint click of the switch. Instantly the atmosphere in room was beyond suffocating. The air was thick enough to choke on. Barely 30 seconds had passed before Cuddy began to gasp and wheezed out, "Turn the light on." It felt like she was underwater without an oxygen tank.

"We've barely started, boss," House said from somewhere in the dark. He sounded far away. Too far away.

"Turn the damn light on," she demanded.

"No."

"Goddammit, Greg…," she said, her voice hoarse and shaky. She was afraid to get off the bed for fear of falling into an endless abyss…if Nicole Wallace didn't drag her under first.

Sounding a bit puzzled, House said, "It's just a few minutes, Lisa--"

"Turn on the light."

She couldn't take it anymore and was crawling across the bed, blindly groping her way to the night table. Something fell to the floor with a rattle, the bottle of Vicodin; then something more solid and heavy landed with a crash. The alarm clock, it's numbers now uncovered and providing a soft glow. In her growing panic she barely noticed it. She reached for the lamp but was pushed away.

"The light stays off," House said firmly.

"No!"

"Lisa--"

"Please, for God's sake, just _turn the fucking light on_!"

There was something new in Cuddy's voice--terror. It filled the room and rang in House's ears. It was something he could not dismiss or ignore. She was scared out of her mind. He switched on the lamp.

Cuddy was white as salt, gulping down chunks of air, her chest rising and falling as if she had just finished a relay race. Afraid she was going to hyperventilate and pass out, he sat down beside, pulling her close. "It's okay, Lisa. Just breathe. Everything's fine…"

"It's not fine!" Her voice began to crack. "It is _not_ fine! _Nothing_ about this is fine!"

"You're fine," House said firmly.

"No, I'm not." The front of her tee-shirt was darkened with a triangle patch of sweat; strands of hair clung to her cheeks and neck.

"Yes, you are. Now just breathe and relax."

"I can't…"

"You can and you will. Now breathe."

He sat with her as her breathing returned to normal. Not once did she make eye contact. He left her side briefly to pick up the clock and Vicodin bottle. When he sat back down she still didn't look him in the eye.

"Talk to me, boss," he said.

"About what?"

"About anything," House replied, knowing that she was fighting back tears.

"I have nothing to say."

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. But I do want you to look at me. Can you do that?"

She didn't move, so he carefully reached out and took hold of her chin, turning her around until she was facing him. Her eyes were ringed with red, her face blotchy and tear-streaked.

"This…," she began.

"Yes, Lisa?" House urged her on.

"This isn't working."

He frowned. "You're doing fine, it's just a little setback. Just give it some time--"

"How much time?" Cuddy broke in, sounding angry. "How much time is this going to take?"

"I don't know--"

"I know. Too long. It's going to take too long. I can't live like this anymore and I can't keep sleeping with the damn lights on, waking up screaming every other night and waking you up with me." She looked away. "I need some help, Greg. More help than you can give me."


	22. Chapter 22

"You tried," Cuddy said as they climbed back into bed.

"I didn't try hard enough," House muttered, sounding almost angry.

"You tried," she reassured him. "You tried your damndest."

"Lot of good that did."

"Greg, you can't save everyone," she sighed, pulling up the covers. The nights were still warm but she was suddenly freezing. "I need to see someone about this and that someone isn't you. You did your best but this isn't a mysterious disease that can be cured with a pill. This is something in my head and I need to get to the bottom of it and get it out."

"I wanted it to be me," he said. "I wanted to be the one to help you."

"I know you did," Cuddy replied, running her thumb along his scruffy chin. She was slightly amused at the thought of House seeing himself as her protector, but decided to keep quiet about it for the time being. "You helped me as much as you could. The fact that I'm choosing to go to someone else doesn't mean you failed."

"It sure as hell feel like it."

"I need this, Greg."

"And I'm not going to stop you," he began, "even though shrinks are snake oil salesmen."

"They are not."

"One is going to mess with your head and turn you into a Stepford wife." House sounded halfway serious.

"Greg…"

"Playing mind games isn't a science. It's a waste of a medical degree."

"You play mind games with everyone," she pointed out. "Even me."

"My point exactly," he announced with something that sounded like victory. "I don't play mind games in the name of science, you see, I play them because I can. I didn't need to waste countless years at college to do that. It's a gift, if I do say so myself. It's probably a good thing I didn't major in psychology or else I'd _really_ be dangerous."

"That sounds about right," Cuddy had to agree.

"Indeed. The second you buy a new vacuum cleaner and a frilly June Cleaver dress, we're moving to an undisclosed location."

My hero, she thought, nevermind the fact that House could use a visit or a hundred to a psychiatrist himself. Not that House would ever do that, even if she paid for it. Not even she held a gun to his head. She didn't dare ask if he wanted to go with her; he was already irritated enough by the fact that he thought he had failed her somehow. Suggesting he see a shrink would only throw gasoline on the flaming embers of his disappointment.

The last thing they needed was to get into an argument about whether she was going to be replaced with a domestic robotic double. Enough had gone wrong that night without getting into a silly fight at crazy o'clock in the morning. She looked at him and said, "You promise not to get in the way of me seeing a shrink?"

"I promise," he replied with complete sincerity.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Do me another favor and don't anyone else about this."

Too late, House thought. Well, not yet. Goren certainly didn't know about Cuddy deciding to see someone about her nightmares and fear of the dark. If she got to tell someone about what was bothering her, it was only fair he had a friendly ear that would listen to his private thoughts as well. At least Goren knew well enough to keep his yap shut about it, and House wasn't even paying him an hourly fee. "I won't," House said.

"Good." She snuggled up to him. "You're so wonderful."

"That is the beauty that is me." He glanced at the clock. "You think you can catch a few hours of shut-eye, boss?"

She looked at the time and groaned. "God, I hope so. How about you? Can you sleep with the light on?"

"I'm sure it won't kill me."

"Okay," she said. "Do you think Wilson is finished looking through your books?"

"I doubt it. He's probably still reading the damn things."

"When will he be finished?"

"At the rate he's going, it'll be when I break down and see a shrink or when hell freezes over. Take a guess at which one I think will happen first."


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: This is the last chapter. Thanks to all my readers. You guys are The Awesome!_

* * *

"So, you're finally finished with the damn things," House said nonchalantly, looking over at the last two boxes of books Wilson had decided to take.

The three doctors were lounging on the sofa, eating burgers and fries that were paid for by Wilson, who didn't know he was going to pay for them to begin with. Cuddy was starving and shamelessly wolfed down her cheeseburger with extra gusto.

"Yes, I'm finished," Wilson said as he reached for his Pepsi.

"Did you read them all?"

"Not yet."

"You're _finally_ finished."

"Yes, House, I'm finished," Wilson replied. He honestly hadn't meant to take so long, but House actually had some interesting titles on his shelves. "There are no more books to look through. Gone. Done. Kaput. Except for the boxes I'm taking home tonight, there are no more books. You can celebrate."

"It's about time. Any longer and I would have started charging you rent."

"And what if I told you that I hurried up over the last day or two so I didn't have to listen to bitch anymore?"

House eyed his friend. "You've been listening to me bitch for a dozen years, Jimmy boy. Another day hardly matters."

"No…it doesn't," Wilson agreed with a shrug before drowning his fries with ketchup.

"I was going to start charging you rent."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, House."

Cuddy nudged her lover in the ribs and said, "We need to start moving some more of your clothes over to my place."

"_Our_ place," House corrected.

"Our place," she echoed with a smile.

House munched a few fries before asking, "Have you made some closet space for me yet, boss? I'll take my half out of the middle."

"You'll take whichever half I give you and you'll like it. I was going to make some room on my next day off," she answered, then grabbed the last napkin to clean off her greasy fingers. The big juicy burger was just what she needed after a long day of running from one of the hospital to the other and back again. She'd probably pay for it with an upset stomach later, but it would still be worth it.

"When are we moving my piano?"

"When I make some room for it."

"When will that be?"

"After we move your clothes."

"Don't take too long, boss," House said with a salacious grin. "Or I'll find the time to make some room for it, and it won't be pretty."

* * *

"You haven't asked about the shrink," Cuddy noted as she sat on the edge of the bed. House was already under the covers, patiently waiting for her to join him there.

"No, I haven't," House replied.

"I'm kind of surprised."

"How so?"

"I was expecting you to tease me about it," she explained. "I was expecting you to ask how the brainwashing went, or if my Stepford replacement was finished yet. I was expecting you to make me to buy extra light bulbs for the lamps that are left on all night. I was expecting you to say _something_, but you haven't said a word about it."

"Do you want me to say something?"

"Not really; I just want to know why you haven't."

"I was here, Lisa, remember? I saw what you were going through," House said in all seriousness. "You need someone to help you deal with it. Who am I to say you're wrong about that?"

"You always say everyone else is wrong. You would have said something if it were someone else," she pointed out. "You would tease the hell out of them. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"Anyone else I would tease, maybe, if I didn't know exactly what happened. But not you. Not about this."

"Thank you, Greg."

"For what?"

"For keeping your mouth shut for once in your life."

"Well," he began with a grin, "I didn't want to move my piano all the way to your place only to have to bring it back."

"Our place," she corrected.

"Our place," House said as he took her hand and entwined their fingers. "Your place, my place, our place. No matter which place it is, I'll always leave a light on for you."

--The End.


End file.
